


The Fifth House

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Some students have returned to Hogwarts to complete their education. After the war, they don’t really fit into their old houses.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a relief to sit at a table in the warmly lit Great Hall of Hogwarts, once more. After the solemn train ride and silent carriage trip to the castle, the candlelit hall was a welcoming sight.

 

Hermione looked around at the other students that had returned to complete their education. They numbered twenty-two. Harry and Ron, of course, were not present. It appeared as though the entire Ravenclaw class had returned as well as several Hufflepuffs. Fay, Parvati, Neville, and Dean with Hermione made up the Gryffindors and then there was Draco, the only Slytherin. He sat alone at the far end of the table.

 

Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Slughorn stood at one end of the student table. The table at which the professors typically sat was empty.

 

“Good evening, students. Welcome back to Hogwarts. I’ve asked you here a day earlier than the rest of the students because the school governors and I have decided to separate you from our traditional houses.

 

“Your purpose here is to learn; you will not be prefects, you will neither earn nor lose house points, and you will not participate in Quidditch.”

 

Hermione was rather pleased to hear that her activities would be limited solely to school work; she was surprised at the lack of outrage from the others but reasoned that they must have goals similar to hers to have returned. 

 

Headmistress McGonagall turned her attention to Professor Slughorn.

 

“Hogwarts is home to untold secrets. During last year’s battle, a lost set of house rooms was unearthed. It was a failed attempt at a fifth house. At the start of a forgotten war, it was built and populated by those that did not wish to be sorted for one reason or another. Some students did not wish to join a house as it would declare their allegiance, in a way. The fifth house fell as the war brewed to its pinnacle and sides sprouted or were forced upon sons and daughters by their parents.”

 

The attention of every student was on Slughorn. Hermione had never heard of a fifth house at Hogwarts; failed or otherwise. She wished she had parchment and quill to take notes.

 

“Your house will dissolve after you’ve completed your education – we will forgo a name, colors, and mascot. The entrance to your house is through the tapestry of Lord and Lady Mormont behind the grand staircase; we’ll affix a password if it becomes necessary.”

 

Hermione’s hand shot up.

 

“Yes, Ms. Granger?” Slughorn asked with a pained look.

 

“While I fully support that our focus should be on learning-” someone snickered and Hermione ignored them.

 

“I think it would inspire camaraderie among us to have colors, mascot, and name.”

 

“This is a temporary house, Ms. Granger. If you students wish to make those decisions amongst yourselves that would be fine,” the headmistress curtly replied.

 

“Now, follow me and I’ll show you to your rooms. Your belongings are waiting for you.”

 

~*~

 

The next morning, Hermione was not welcomed by the students of the Fifth House and she found herself at the end breakfast table, across from Draco Malfoy. He glanced up at her a few times but said nothing and Hermione kept her attention on her plate.

 

The night before had been a disaster. Hermione had attempted to facilitate reasonable discussion and decisions on symbols for their unique house. However, the other students didn’t take her seriously and she ended up with ridiculous suggestions and debate that lasted longer than her patience. Defeated, she went to bed. Overnight, Hermione had become something of a joke; The Boy Who Lived was no longer around to keep order and normalize her brilliance.

 

Hermione Granger realized that if it hadn’t been for Harry and Ron, she would not have had many friends. As she nibbled her toast, she wondered if Ginny and Luna were friendly to her by association. She caught Draco glancing at her, again.

 

“Black on black and the Hogwarts’ ‘H,’” he said and then got up and walked away.

 

Hermione stared after him. It was perfect. She’d spell-up some patches and leave them in the common room. Maybe knit some scarves and hats, too…

 

The rest of the Hogwarts students wouldn’t arrive for hours. Hermione intended to spend her day reading her new textbooks and settling into her room; however, the number of girls giggling and gossiping was too much for her. She decided to claim a quiet chair in the common area.

 

Historically, the spots farthest from the fireplace were the most frequently empty and Hermione discovered that fact still to be true. Others had taken over the warmest places. Hermione happily sank into a squishy chair with her book, far from the fire. She was about to crack it open when she spotted another fan of the unpopular seating in one across from her; Draco. Hermione might have attempted a conversation about his suggestion for Fifth House colors and symbol, but he was working very hard to ignore her, his nose in a book. Swallowing a grin, Hermione delved into ‘Unraveling Alchemy.’

 

At the Welcoming Feast, Hermione enjoyed a happy reunion with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. She hadn’t seen much of them over the summer; once Hermione and Ron had split up, Hermione had been politely excluded from Weasley family activities. It didn’t matter that their split had been mutually amicable.

 

Hermione wondered if anyone else appreciated the irony as Draco sat down across from her. It seemed they would share ostracism in the Fifth House. That suited Hermione, fine; she had no interest in wasting her time with the narrow-minded.

 

Headmistress McGonagall welcomed everyone and explained the temporary Fifth House returning students. New students were sorted; Hermione was surprisingly uninterested in them. They were few in number and looked smaller than she thought they ought.

 

Hermoine rejoined Ginny and Luna and they lingered in the corridors to catch up. Hermione told them about her immediate unpopularity. Ginny sympathized but Luna commented dreamily on Hermione sharing exile with Draco. Not knowing how to reply, which happened in conversations with Luna, Hermione changed the subject.

 

It was late when the witches parted for bed. Hermione’s step was lighter. She chuckled to herself for entertaining the idea that the two were friends with her because of her association with Harry and Ron. Hermione pushed aside the tapestry entrance to the Fifth House but froze at the sound of a male groan. Blinking in the dimly lit common area, Hermione’s gaze finally found the source; a witch was kneeling before Neville, performing fellatio. Stunned, Hermione spun on her heel and smacked right into someone about to enter.

 

Blushing furiously, Hermione excused herself and looked up to find none other than Draco Malfoy. She glanced heavenward. Why was it always him?

 

“I wouldn’t go in there,” she warned.

 

Draco lifted a brow at her; Hermione felt her cheeks fill with deeper color. She saw that her reaction was amusing him and attempted to explain.

 

“There’s a couple in there… _You know_ ,” she emphasized.

 

“Shagging?” Draco drawled, obviously entertained by Hermione’s discomfort.

 

“Er, something like that,” she answered, gaze skittering away from Draco’s face. He stared at her as if she was gushing secrets.

 

“Surely that’s nothing _new_ to you,” he hedged.

 

Hermione didn’t bother to reply but she narrowed her eyes at him. He broke into a grin as if he’d just solved a puzzle.

 

“Night,” he said and stepped past the tapestry.

 

Hermione fretted and paced for thirty minutes before peeking around the hanging, once more. There didn’t appear to be movement so she hurried as silently and quickly as she could for the girls’ dormitory.

 

In the morning, Hermione paused only a moment before taking her customary seat at the end of the house tables. Draco glanced up at her and Hermione experienced a dart of something unexpected at meeting his grey eyes: attraction.

 

“Morning,” he offered.

 

Hermione responded with a hushed greeting that made Draco give her a second glance.

 

“Quite a show last night,” he announced conversationally.

 

Hermione felt her cheeks flush, once more. She was not accustomed to speaking about matters between the sexes – particularly with a member of the opposite.

 

“Quite,” she agreed in a low tone.

 

Draco leaned back on the bench, giving Hermione a smug grin. She slowly filled her plate, feeling his gaze all the while.

 

“You’re staring,” she finally hissed.

 

Draco lazily lifted his shoulder in a partial shrug, still considering Hermione but with less intensity.

 

Hermione was not unaffected; she grew self-conscious and could not eat. With a last suspicious glance at Draco, she shoved her plate aside and got up, exiting the Great Hall. In her haste, she almost knocked over Professor Flitwick. A spell summoned back his pile of parchment.

 

“Your class schedule, Ms. Granger,” he chirruped, holding out a piece of parchment.

 

“Thank you, Professor. So sorry for that,” she offered lamely.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, peering at her over his glasses.

 

“I’m fine,” she affirmed. She took herself towards the house at a more sedate pace.

 

“You don't hate me, do you?”

 

Hermoine jumped a mile. She'd been picking up the book for her first class from her trunk when the male voice hailed her.

 

Yes, it was Draco. He stood in the doorway to the girls’ dormitory.

 

Hermione shot him a sharp glance as she retrieved her book.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Let’s come back to that, later,” he answered, looking pleased with himself.

 

“So, do you?”

 

“Do I what?”

 

“Hate me,” Draco patiently repeated, effectively blocking her exit.

 

Hermione stared at him, trying to figure out his angle but reasoned that unless she answered, she’d be late for class.

 

“I don’t waste my energy hating anyone, Malfoy,” she said, moving close.

 

“And you?”

 

He grinned at her.

 

“I don’t care about anyone enough to hate them.”

 

Hermione huffed as if she wanted to laugh but suspected he was telling the truth.

 

“No more ‘death to Mudbloods?’”

 

“I never said those words,” he snapped, spinning away and marching through the tapestry over the door.

 

“There is something wrong with him…” Hermione muttered reviewing his behavior on the way to class.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I never said those words,” Draco hissed, slipping into the empty seat beside Hermione.

 

Hermione shot Draco a skeptical look. It was probably his version of an apology. What, in Dumbledore’s name, was Draco up to?

 

“Fair enough,” she replied, mystified.

 

Professor Slughorn welcomed the class and launched immediately into the lesson. Hermione attempted to take meticulous notes. She felt it every time Draco’s gaze was on her; it was more often than reasonable. Then, she felt something small pelt the back of her head. She whipped around to find Ginny miming a question at her. The redhead pointed at Draco. Hermione made a face and shrugged then went back to note-taking.

 

By the time the Professor set them loose to brew a base from which the antidotes to different poisons might be made, less than half the class-time remained. Hermione gathered the necessary supplies from the cabinet and began working. She couldn’t help but notice that Draco was not following directions.

 

“You’re going to burn off your eyebrows if you add that now,” she said, grabbing his arm before he dropped in mistletoe berries.

 

“Do you like wizards less for their potions scars?” he asked.

 

Hermione blinked. Was he trying to be funny? She watched him for a moment, unsure. Draco pulled her notes over and began reading them.

 

“You have the smallest handwriting I’ve ever seen,” he muttered.

 

“You could take your own notes,” Hermione replied.

 

Draco grinned and wrapped an arm around her as if they were friends and it was something he did every day. Hermione was so astounded that she didn’t know what to do. He let go of her and went back to skimming her notes.

 

“What does that say?”

 

Hermione followed his finger.

 

“Horn. Unicorn horn,” Hermione annunciated.

 

“Oh. That little swirl at the end looked like a ‘y.’”

 

Hermione blinked, again. He was teasing her. Astounded, she went back to her cauldron to find that she’d been distracted to the point of sacrificing her potion. However, she was so preoccupied with reasoning out Draco’s behavior that she didn’t care. She went through the motions of brewing but had no idea what she was doing. Draco managed to borrow most of her ingredients and make her head spin with his nearness. Every time he reached for something, he managed to brush up against her. Every time he wanted her attention, he touched her arm.

 

Slughorn’s disappointment with Hermione’s base potion was a quiet exclamation of ‘Oh, my!’ He tutted and moved onto the workbench shared by Ginny and Dean.

 

“What is that, anyway?” Draco asked, peering into Hermione’s cauldron. She resisted the urge to jinx him.

 

“What happened? _Distracted_ by something..?”

 

Had it been anyone other than Draco, Hermione would have been able to ignore their antics. She had to admit to herself that Draco was muddling her thoughts; somehow, he’d shattered her ability to focus. Was this what girls felt like when they were attracted to a boy? Hermione looked into Draco’s pale eyes and, despite herself, grinned. She immediately looked away, embarrassed. Butterflies exploded through her stomach. He was most certainly flirting with her. How could she feel something for this wizard, her former enemy?

 

Automatically, Hermione vanished the contents of her cauldron and began packing up her belongings. She was vaguely aware of others doing the same, around her.

 

“Later, beautiful,” Draco winked at her before leaving.

 

Ginny joined Hermione at her bench.

 

“He called me ‘beautiful,’” Hermione mused, moving slow.

 

“Did he?” Ginny asked, sounding unsurprised.

 

“Why would he do that?” Hermione snapped, uncertain as to what emotion she was feeling.

 

“Have you looked at yourself in a mirror, lately?” Ginny chuckled.

 

Hermione glowered at her; “What?”

 

“Do you _like_ him?” Ginny countered, ignoring her friend’s irritation.

 

Hermione felt her face grow warm.

 

“Hermione!” Ginny admonished with a giggle of disbelief.

 

“I hardly know,” Hermione replied, feeling silly for talking about a wizard like she was twelve and embarrassed to admit she felt something for someone that had, in the past, despised her.

 

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” Ginny muttered, taking her friend’s arm and leading her out of the classroom.

 

“What’s your next class?”

 

“Nothing until after lunch,” Hermione replied. “I’m going to go to the library and write a paper for Professor Slughorn.”

 

Ginny peppered Hermione with comments but Hermione wasn’t capable of talking anymore. She needed to bury herself in work and focus. She wrote an essay on antidotes to poisons that would rival a textbook. At lunch, she snagged a sandwich from the Great Hall and took it outside to find a sunny spot. The weather would soon turn and she wanted to enjoy the tranquility of the lake.

 

She hadn’t been sitting for five minutes when Draco appeared and sat down on the rock beside her. Hermione held out half of her sandwich to him. He took it and they ate in silence, watching other students stroll at the lake’s edge. A couple holding hands passed by.

 

“Why haven’t you got a boyfriend?” Draco asked.

 

“Why haven’t you got a girlfriend?” Hermione countered.

 

Draco smirked and Hermione deduced that he liked her answer. She thought he must be lonely and know that Hermione wouldn’t patronize him because she knew his story. Their comfortable silence continued for twenty more minutes.

 

“I’ll see you later,” Hermione offered as she slid from the rock.

 

“Definitely,” Draco replied.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or not to find that Draco was not in Expert Transfiguration. At least she was able to concentrate as Katie Bell, the new Transfiguration professor, taught her lesson. Hermione found that she quite enjoyed Katie’s personality as a teacher and was looking forward to the research she assigned for homework. Directly after class, Hermione took herself to the library to get started.

 

Hermione had summoned down all of the books she might need and was reaching for the last just above her head when someone grabbed her sides and pulled her from her precarious perch.

 

“Saving your life!” Draco whispered.

 

Hermione’s heart was pounding and she wanted to be mad but simply couldn’t; he looked so pleased with himself. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. He lifted her onto the shelf and when his arms slid around her, she wanted them there, forever. Hermione was mindless with desire and the world fell away.

 

Until someone gasped.

 

“Stop that this instant!”

 

Draco spun and drew his wand, standing protectively between Hermione and Ms. Pince.

 

“Put that away, Mr. Malfoy or you’ll be expelled. That they allowed you a wand at all…”

 

Hermione filled with anger on his behalf. She squeezed Draco’s shoulder.

 

“Let’s go,” she hissed, hoping to distract him from the librarian’s foul words. She followed him as he moved stiffly towards the exit, wand dripping sparks.

 

“Draco,” she said as they left the library.

 

He stopped and the deadness of his expression made Hermione withdraw her hand.

 

“Why don’t you go back for your books?” he suggested, voice strangely tight.

 

“Alright,” Hermione replied, bereft as he left her on the stairwell.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione spent some time in the library, hands moving over the books she needed and fingers tracing her lips where Draco had kissed her. She was in danger of losing her mind.

 

Hermione narrowed-down her selection of books and left Ms. Pince with an ink pot that would spray her with ink the next time she used it.

 

Draco was reading when Hermione entered the Fifth House common area. He set aside his book when he saw her. There were others before the fire. Conscious of them, she sat beside Draco so they could speak. Rather than say anything, Draco gestured towards the boys’ dorm with a jerk of his head. Hermione shook hers.

 

“I’ve got curtains,” he whispered. Draco took her hand, causing her to glance around in panic. No one was paying them mind.

 

“I-”

 

He lifted her index finger to his lips and placed a hot kiss on its tip. Mesmerized, Hermione watched him press the pads of each of her fingers against his lips, each kiss sent hot darts of longing through her. He met her eyes.

 

“You’re… _Inexperienced_?” he whispered.

 

Hermione nodded. He leaned close and whispered that they didn’t need to do anything, he just wanted to hold her, touch her.

 

Hermione wanted to ask why but couldn’t. Her heart was pounding and she wanted to be held, touched. She nodded and Draco laced his fingers through hers. He glanced around – no one was watching, and led her into the boys’ dorm. He stopped suddenly and drew his wand. Hermione peeked around him to find Dean Thomas standing in front of them.

 

“I didn’t see anything,” Dean said.

 

“Good man,” Draco nodded.

 

A fire crackled in a round pit in the middle of the room and the beds were spread far from one another. Draco led Hermione to the darkest, shadowed corner where a green-curtained bed sat. She glanced after Dean but he was already gone.

 

Draco toed off his shoes and scooted to the far side of the bed. Hermione untied her shoes to join him. She wondered what the hell she was doing as she climbed up and Draco spelled the curtains closed around them. He cast _muffliato,_ as well; Hermione was comforted by the familiar spell and the privacy it afforded them.

 

Draco had situated himself against his pillows and was watching her. Hermione was hit with second wave of ‘ _What am I doing_?’

 

“Why’d you come back to Hogwarts?” Draco asked.  

 

Hermione explained that she wanted to complete credits for potions research. She realized that he’d successfully distracted her from her worry and asked him why he had come back. Draco had made an agreement with his mother to complete his education. Hermione relaxed as they chatted. Draco stretched out with a yawn, sparking an answering yawn from Hermione.

 

“You’ve forgiven me, haven’t you?” he asked sleepily.

 

“For..?”

 

“All of it,” he said.

 

Hermione succumbed to sleepiness and laid down beside him. She assumed Draco meant everything he’d done to her and the rest of Hogwarts when he let Death Eaters into the school. She rolled onto her side to look at him and was in sudden close proximity.

 

“Of course,” she replied breathily.

 

Despite the darkness of their pasts, Hermione could see Draco, his personality, shining through. He was not untouched but he was leaving the shadows behind. She fully appreciated that he was a Slytherin. The mischievous and clever spirit within him held almost an innocence that appealed to Hermione.

 

An innocence for fun but not, it seemed, for witches. He rested his hand on her hip and his thumb made slow circles that would tickle under any other circumstance.

 

“May I move closer to you?”

 

“How much closer can we get?” Hermione chuckled but her breath caught when Draco grinned back and winked.

 

He maneuvered his arm under her head and wiggled so that his body almost cradled her; Hermione lay rigid until she realized that Draco wasn’t going to push her farther. His warmth seeped into her. Slowly, Hermione relaxed and listed to Draco’s heart beating under her. He sighed and she felt it before she heard it. The sensation sent heat rushing to particular parts of her anatomy.

 

Employing infamous Gryffindor courage, Hermione slid her palm up Draco’s ribs and felt her way up his neck to his jaw. She heard his heartbeat double as her fingers gently traced his chin and bottom lip. Remembering how much she’d enjoyed it, she found Draco’s other hand and drew it to her mouth; she lingeringly kissed each of his fingertips and then began tonguing them. His groan was gratifying.

 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Draco growled.

 

He rolled onto his side, slipping Hermione off of him, onto her side.

 

“Sorry, I thought you’d like it,” Hermione whispered, embarrassed.

 

“Too much,” Draco purred, pressing against her until she understood.

 

“Oh,” Hermione breathed.

 

“Turnabout is fair play,” he said.

 

Hermione gave an uncharacteristic squeal as Draco flipped her onto her back and straddled her. She watched him pull his robe and shirt off over his head, her heart racing. In the curtain-dimmed firelight, his pale skin looked like marble.

 

“Draco,” Hermione said.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Will you kiss me?” she asked, feeling as though she could trust him enough to tell him that she wanted him, too.

 

He leaned down over her, his face just above hers. “Oh, yes,” he promised.

 

“Here,” he said, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck under her ear and pressing his lips to it.

 

“And, here,” he repeated, nosing the vee of Hermione’s shirt and kissing the hot skin there.

 

Draco sat back and drew his wand. Hermione’s fuzzy mind could only watch as he directed the buttons to part all the way down her shirt front. She felt her bra go loose and then soar away. Mouth dry, brain utterly unable to function, Hermione was helpless when Draco leaned over her and kissed his way down her chest to her breasts. The sensation of his suckling and pulling her nipples sent her into a spiral of desire that left her panting and gasping his name.

 

It took Hermione a few moments to come down from her sexual high and realize that Draco had rested his head on her chest.

 

“You stopped,” she said, feeling dumb.

 

He looked up at her face.

 

“I don’t want to rush you,” he said.

 

Hermione took a deep breath; “You’re not.” She languidly slid her fingers into his hair.

 

“See how you feel in the morning,” Draco muttered. He situated himself beside Hermione and then pulled her into his arms.

 

Hermione was awake when Draco fell asleep. She trembled as she relived every moment since their first kiss. It was touching that he wanted her to be certain; touching and unexpected. Hermione’s mind wasn’t the only bit of her in trouble. She might lose her heart along with her virginity. Eventually, Hermione drifted to sleep.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, wake up, my boy!”

 

Hermione jumped, disoriented to feel someone beside her.

 

Draco held a finger to his lips.

 

“Yes, professor?” he asked.

 

“Do you happen to have Ms. Granger in there?”

 

It was Professor Slughorn. There was a rumble of other voices; the other wizards in the room were awake.

 

“What if I did?” Draco grinned at Hermione and squeezed her hand.

 

“Her disappearance has many people distressed. I suggest she come out for her appointment with Headmistress McGonagall.”

 

Hermione summoned her bra and had her shirt halfway buttoned when Draco leaned in and kissed her. He felt just as good as he had the night before. She loved the way that he wanted her. She loved that he kissed her when he wanted to. She loved the way his hand splayed possessively on her back.

 

A smile ruined the kiss but Hermione couldn’t help herself.

 

“I’ve got to go,” she chuckled.

 

“Technically, we’re adults,” he countered, leaning back on the bed, hands laced behind his head.

 

Any other time, Hermione would stay. Stretched out like that, Draco was a sinful invitation. But, Hermione could not ignore that Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her and they were in a room full of other wizards.

 

“I’ll find you later,” she said with a grin. Hermione parted the curtains and spelled her shoes onto her feet. She’d known but hadn’t been prepared for the reality of being in a room full of wizards. She looked up and found them all staring at her. Those she knew well turned their gazes from her; Neville, Dean, Zacharias, and Justin. The others watched her walk from Draco’s bed, to the door where Professor Slughorn waited. For some reason, the professor’s inability to look at her summoned Hermione’s embarrassment.

 

When she set foot in the common area, Hermione was met with the stares of all of the witches in her house. She felt her cheeks go hotter to hear them titter and whisper. Unconsciously, Hermione made a mental list of those laughing. Belatedly, she realized that she probably looked as though she’d slept in her clothes and that everyone assumed she’d slept with Draco Malfoy. Hermione reddened to realize that if it had been up to her, she would have.

 

The rest of the trip to the Headmistress’ office was free of other students and Hermione subtly cast a couple of hygienic spells on herself. She felt no shame for spending the night in Draco’s bed but she didn’t need to flaunt it in front of a witch for whom she had great respect.

 

Thankfully, Slughorn left Hermione at the door and she made her way up the spiral stairs, alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Breakfast was almost over when Hermione entered the Great Hall. She was aware of the increase in whispering as she took a spot at the Fifth House table. Draco was not present and she had just started to wonder about him when Ginny joined her.

 

“You spent the night with him?” Ginny asked in a low voice.

 

Hermione glanced around; there were too many eyes and ears.

 

“We’ll talk later,” she replied, summoning tea and toast.

 

“The entire school already knows,” Ginny said.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes; “There’s nothing to know.”

 

“Nothing, huh?” Ginny pried, eyes narrow and analytic.

 

“Later,” Hermione repeated and ate her toast.

 

A hoot signaled the arrival of owl post and Ginny finally left Hermione in peace. Two owls landed in front of Hermione and she froze to see that one dropped a howler. She stared at the red envelope, smoking on the table. Who, in Dumbledore’s name, would send her a howler? Hermione took the scroll from the remaining owl and it flew away in a hurry.

 

The second Ron’s voice boomed out of the howler, Hermione drew her wand and destroyed the envelope.

 

“How dare he?” she exclaimed, staring at the scorch mark on the table. Irritated beyond caring that she’d damaged school property, Hermione caught Ginny’s eye. She saw that the entirety of Hogwarts was watching her. Wand in one hand, unread letter in the other, she stormed out of the Great Hall onto the grounds. Perhaps the chilly air would cool her temper.

 

Hermione was perched on her favorite rock, incinerating Harry’s letter when Ginny caught up to her.

 

“My brother’s an idiot.”

 

“Agreed,” Hermione sighed.

 

“Was that from Harry?”

 

“It was.”

 

“What did McGonagall say?”

 

Hermione wished she’d thought to shower and grab her robes or at least her cloak; it was a cold morning!

 

“She told me how disappointed she was in me,” Hermione finally replied.  “She said I should be a role model to the other students.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I am. It’s strange, actually. I’m not as upset by Minerva’s opinion as I thought I would be.”

 

“It’s a bit narrow-minded,” Ginny supplied.

 

“Precisely,” Hermione nodded, glad that Ginny understood. “It’s as though I’ve exceeded her.”

 

“And, what about Malfoy?”

 

Hermione felt her cheeks warm and she shrugged.

 

“You really spent the night with him?”

 

“Yes, but we didn’t do _that_.”

 

“You did other stuff?” Ginny correctly guessed with a wide grin.

 

Hermione smiled.

 

“Don’t you have class?” Hermione asked, changing the subject.

 

“For this, I’ll be late. What about you?”

 

“Nothing until this afternoon. How the hell did Harry and Ron hear?”

 

Ginny shrugged; “They have their fans.”

 

“I’m not giving you details. You may as well head to class,” Hermione said, getting up. She wanted a shower and bath and to be alone.

 

“Please, don’t be angry,” Ginny asked, hurrying to walk with Hermione back to the castle.

 

“I’m not angry… I can’t think around him and I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t even eat! I just haven’t processed everything and I’m not ready to talk about it.”

 

For some reason Ginny burst into laughter. Hermione stopped in her tracks.

 

“Hermione!” she said, still smiling broadly. “You’re in love!”

 

Hermione made a face. She liked Draco but she didn’t… _Love_ him. …Did she? When she came out of her thoughts, Ginny was blessedly gone.

 

Feeling better having showered and dressed in clean robes over her uniform, Hermione joined the Fifth House for lunch. Draco did not appear and she wondered if she should be worried. Perhaps he’d had a change of heart. Ginny sat down with Hermione and whispered a story designed to melt any witch’s heart.

 

After leaving Hermione, Ginny had overheard a handful of younger Slytherins badgering Draco. They demanded he explain himself and, among other things, called Hermione a Mudblood. Apparently, Draco lost it and hexed the lot of them. He said he’d date whom he liked and Hermione was worth all of Slytherin House put together.

 

“You look surprised,” Ginny commented.

 

Hermione thought her friend must be imagining great romance to be so interested.

 

“How a person behaves in private might be different from how they behave around others,” she explained.

 

She added in a whisper, “It’s… It’s enough to turn a witch’s head. I had no idea he thought so highly of me.”

 

“He’s kind to you?” Ginny asked as though she’d been wanting it confirmed.

 

Hermione nodded, “Quite. And, considerate.”

 

“Then, you have my support. And, I can get Harry and Ron off my back.”

 

Hermione shot Ginny a distressed glance. Harry and Ron had never been stellar letter-writers but she had expected, at the least, a birthday card. She’d been furious that a rumor of her spending the night with Draco Malfoy prompted them to finally contact her. Who did they think they were? How could they assume their lack of replies to her owls would retain her friendship, let alone a right to give input on her life choices?

 

“They care. They’re imbeciles and terrible friends but they care about you,” Ginny explained.

 

Despite her annoyance with the two, Hermione knew it to be true.

 

In Arithmancy, Hermione’s heart skipped to find Draco seated in the back row. She took the chair beside him and flashed him a smile. His face and shoulders had been tense; when he relaxed, it was apparent.

 

“Hi,” she said.

 

“Hi, yourself,” he purred, obviously pleased to see her.

 

Hermione forced herself to look away from him and open her textbook. How did he do that? How did he make her brain stop just by looking at her? Hermione realized that she felt a little breathless and took a couple of deep, slow breaths. Perhaps, she shouldn’t have sat with him.

 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be happy to see me,” Draco whispered. 

 

“Why ever not?” Hermione asked, ignoring the other students filing into the room.

 

“Did you get into trouble?” he asked.

 

“No. Why? Did you?”

 

“Not- no.” Draco corrected himself.

 

“ _Students_ giving you a hard time?” Hermione guessed.  

 

“Don’t worry about me. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” His pale eyes were amused.

 

Hermione swallowed a smile. Could she like him more?

 

Professor Vector welcomed the students and sent homework scrolls soaring around the room to each of them. As she began explaining the lesson, Hermione jumped to feel Draco’s hand on her knee. She gave him a fierce look and he mimicked the expression. Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. His hand felt heavy and warm on her and she was utterly distracted. She’d be damned if she’d let him know, though, the prat.

 

Draco’s hand moved a little higher on her thigh and Hermione did her best to ignore him; she felt him watching her. Desperately, she tried to focus on the lesson. His hand slipped higher and she gave a silent gasp.

 

“Don’t make me draw my wand,” she hissed between her teeth. As subtly as possible, she pulled his hand up and gave it a shove under their work bench.

 

“I’ll behave conditionally,” he whispered back.

 

Hermione looked at him with lifted brows.

 

“This weekend, come to Hogsmeade with me.”

 

“Alright, just keep your hands to yourself,” Hermione promised. She tore herself from Draco’s gaze to discover that they had the attention of everyone in the classroom.

 

“If you’re quite through, I’ll continue the lesson,” Professor Vector announced.

 

Hermione felt her cheeks warm and apologized. Draco just sat there, looking smug.

 

After class, Draco took Hermoine’s hand and led her out onto the grounds. Dusk was falling and the air already held a chill.

 

“Do you want to get me into trouble?” Hermoine asked without any conviction.

 

“That's part of the fun!” Draco replied, pushing Hermoine’s satchel to the ground and swinging her into his arms as if to dance.

 

“Really? Can’t keep your hands off me for the length of a class?”

 

Draco turned her, guiding her through an unfamiliar dance. “No, I can’t. I just want to touch you all of the time… Like now.”

 

He stopped dancing and pulled her close. He kissed her and Hermoine felt it to her toes. It wasn't like their first kisses. This was Draco guiding her through a whole other dance. His hands slipped low and he worked her mouth as if he was a dying man and she was his cure. Hermione's wanted him to keep going; she wanted him to keep touching her. She wanted it all. She let his hands travel and set hers to explore, as well.

 

“Oi, Malfoy?”

 

Hermoine blinked up at Draco. Were they on the ground? When had that happened? Who was that?

 

“Damn it,” he cursed.

 

They were behind some decorative foliage near the castle door but they wouldn't remain hidden if the wizards came too near.

 

“Merlin,” Hermoine breathed.

 

“Sorry, Luv,” Draco whispered. He hopped up and brushed himself off.

 

“Hair,” Hermoine grinned, enjoying watching him. His hair was sticking out in every direction. Had she done that?

 

“I've got Astronomy tonight,” he said, running a hand over his hair and blew her a kiss.

 

Hermoine remained on the grass, listening to Draco hail his friends. If she didn't know better, she thought they sounded like Neville and Dean. And, maybe Zacharias.

 

When Hermoine had fixed her clothes and hair, she reentered the castle to find a fourth-year Gryffindor prefect waiting for her.

 

“Headmistress McGonagall wants to see you.”

 

Again?

 

“Ms. Granger, ordinarily, I would not concern myself with students so personally but I suspect that Mr. Malfoy might abuse your favor. He might use you to improve his reputation.”

Hermoine considered Minerva’s words and that she'd felt the need to see her about the situation for a second time.

 

“With all due respect, Professor, I disagree.”

 

Hermoine met Minerva’s stare and wondered what the headmistress must think of her. The older witch must have to come to a decision because she dropped Hermoine’s gaze and began unfurling a scroll.

 

“Fine, then. I'll just remind you that I expect you to be a role model to the younger students.”

 

“Of course,” Hermoine replied and left. She wasn’t angry; in fact, she saw it as a mark of how much McGonagall must care about her. She was wrong and a bit narrow-minded with regards to Draco Malfoy but, honestly, she didn’t blame her. The Malfoy and Black families had long histories of dark magic.

 

Upon reaching the Fifth House common area, Hermione set out her Arithmancy homework to see if she could figure it out. Within a couple of hours, she had fallen asleep, lulled by conversation and the warmth of the fire.

 

Hermione felt something clamp onto her arm and jerked awake, reaching for her wand.

 

“It’s just me,” said Draco, gently releasing her arm and sitting beside her.

 

“You startled me,” Hermione admonished, feeling shaken. She passed a weary hand down her face.

 

“What’d McGonagall want?”

 

Hermione yawned, “Honestly, I’d rather not talk about it.”

 

“She told you, didn’t she?” Draco asked blackly.

 

“Told me what?” Hermione asked, confused. Her mind was struggling to keep up.

 

“Why I’m here. Why I came back this year.”

 

Why did Draco sound so sad? Bewildered, Hermione blinked at him; “Not at all!”

 

“…She didn’t?”

 

“Of course, not,” Hermione retorted, finally waking some and catching up with the conversation. She gathered her books and notes. Pleased, she saw that she’d figured out her Arithmancy and got most of it done.

 

“…Well, aren’t you going to ask?” Draco hedged.  

 

“Not if you don’t want to tell me,” Hermione said, understanding that he was ashamed of the reason he was at Hogwarts and did not want anyone to know. Hermione summoned her belongings and stowed them neatly away. She found Draco staring at her.

 

“What? Have I got something on my face?”

 

Draco rather tackled her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Hermione hugged him and then gave the universal quick pat on his back, hoping to be released. She giggled as he only tightened his arms but her face was pressed against his chest.

 

“Draco!” she admonished. It worked. He let her up but kept his arm around her shoulders.

 

“You knocked over my work!” she muttered, summoning it all back.

 

“Why do you like me?” Draco asked quietly.

 

Hermione considered the coy answers she could give but it wasn’t in her to play games or be anything but transparent.

 

“You make me feel desirable,” she answered simply. “I’m usually sexless to wizards. There’s more but I can’t really put it into words… What about you? Why do you like me?”

 

Draco tilted his head, thinking about his answer.

 

“You know my past and that lets me set it aside – I don’t have to talk about it. And I can just be me with you.”

 

Hermione felt her chest swell with emotion and she fought against showing it. Merlin love a duck, she was in love with him.

 

“I was going to wait – I’m trying to move slowly for you but I just can’t do it. I can’t stand the idea of some other wizard thinking you’re available. Hermione, I want you to be mine. Just mine.”

 

Hermione’s eyes searched Draco’s face; he was serious. Her heart leapt with joy. He’d actually said those words.

 

“I want to say yes,” she began.

 

“Then, say yes,” Draco hissed, gaze on her lips.

 

“We’re so different,” she added. She had one question but didn’t want to spoil everything by asking it. If she didn’t it would haunt her.

 

“And?”

 

“And, I’m Muggle-born,” Hermione said in a clear voice.

 

“That hasn’t stopped you from anything, before. Say ‘yes.’”

 

He didn’t care. He didn’t even realize she was asking if he still felt that Muggle-born were lesser beings. An enormous weight lifted from her.

 

Hermione smiled and her heart soared. “Yes,” she replied.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Felt like writing an 8th year Dramione. **This has not been beta-read. If you're interested, please message me! SPaG and flow.**


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